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"It was nearly half an hour before Jeff returned, having caught the horse and put both into the travelling horse box before hitching it to the car. "I think I've broken my collar bone," was the first thing Heather said to him, indicating her right shoulder. "I think you should call 911." Don't be stupid. If it's really that bad I'll drive you in to the hospital. The horse barely touched you, so it's probably just bruises." The horse trod on me," she gasped. "And my breathing still isn't better."Jeff looked at her in annoyance. "Oh for fuck's sake. Give me your hand." Heather reached up her left hand, which also ached considerably, and Jeff tugged her up. She screamed at the pain, but Jeff got her standing, where her breathing eased considerably. She struggled into the car and Jeff drove her home. She made her way into the house whilst Jeff put the horses away. Even her left arm felt funny now, and she was starting to feel a little dizzy."I need an ambulance," Heather told Jeff when he. After I would work out in the morning, I would drive to an office building where I would stay, for the rest of the day. During that time, they'd train me in the Russian language. When I needed a break, they'd teach me other CIA spy crafts. They didn't train me on how to use a gun, because they didn't want me to look natural at it if I ever came across one. They even provided me with some hand-to-hand training if I ever came across some drunken Soviet rowers. The training was intense.At the end of the school year, I made straight "A's" again. But every time I saw my friends, they questioned me about what I was doing. I told them that the State Department had reassigned my father to Russia. Because of that, I was moving there so I could be with my parents. The State Department didn't want me to embarrass the country, or become an international public display. So they were teaching me the Russian language and culture.Some of them couldn't understand how I could skip out on Japan, but.
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